


Tiger

by Porkchop_Sandwiches



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Angry Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Season 3, fly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23497846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porkchop_Sandwiches/pseuds/Porkchop_Sandwiches
Summary: “You ever heard the phrase, ‘don’t poke a tiger’?”Jesse said it right in his stupid fucking face.Mr. White narrowed his eyes. “You’re not even a garden variety lynx. Let alone a tiger. You are nothing but a house cat, son. A declawed, neutered, limp dick--”
Relationships: Jesse Pinkman/Walter White
Comments: 14
Kudos: 90





	Tiger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pizza_on_the_roof](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pizza_on_the_roof/gifts).



> Written for an angry sex prompt. Pizza_on_the_roof, I know this is a little different than your prompt but I hope I was able to get the feel of what you wanted in here. I've reconfigured some of the episode for plot purposes. I hope everyone is safe :)

“ _ Yeah _ ,” Jess said, voice hushed and steady. His back was a wall of sweat. He tightened his grip around the handle until his palm cramped. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna make it count.”

He swallowed and wondered when he’d stop doing shit that made him hate himself. And no, smacking the fuck out of Mr. White with the guy’s own fly-saber was not on the list. Dude deserved it. But why in the hell in the like red-walled shadows of the lab, sticky fly-pheromone-strip-shit hanging from the ceiling, with Mr. White’s glasses cracked, eyebrow split, blood on his dorky shoes, did he look less of an ass-hat than usual? The whole rumpled-dress-shirt look kind of worked for him, like in a vulnerable, approachable sort of way. Maybe even...like attractive?

For fuck’s sake the guy had a fly perched on the side of his glasses. What was Jesse thinking? Dude must have smacked some of Jesse’s brains out or something. Fuck him.

Jesse swung at the guy like he was nine years old playing his first tee-ball game again trying for that like elusive home run, hoping to get in on that even more elusive post-game Pizza Hut dinner with his folks. Too bad Jesse kind of sucked at tee-ball. 

But he was at least good enough to have Mr. White crying out like a little bitch. 

“Hurts, right?” Jesse said. 

He considered hitting the guy again ‘cause maybe it did something for him or whatever. His shoulder seemed fair game. 

Jesse aimed for left field so to speak and like kind of got off on the sharp smack-groan combo he was rewarded with. 

“ _ Jesse,” _ Mr. White said. Sort of snarled honestly. 

Dude thought he was some sort of badass like predator, head-lion shit. Fuck that. Jesse was holding the saber, and he didn’t look like he’d been up all night sampling their product. And maybe that was why Mr. White looked like more...appealing or whatever. ‘Cause Jesse had seen the same look in the mirror. And Mr. White being on his level, maybe lower was...empowering. 

But then Mr. White yanked the thing right out of Jesse’s hands and just tossed it.

“Yo, wha--”

“Stop screwing around. We can’t cook until we handle this. No more second chances with these people. Understand me, Jesse?”

Jesse clenched his jaw. “I’m not an idiot, Mr. White. Not my fault the fly ain’t horny or whatever and the strips ain’t working. This fly just ain’t that big of a deal. It’s _ one _ fly. You gonna let one fly trash an entire batch?”

“The batch  _ is  _ trash if it’s contaminated. Why do I feel like I keep repeating myself?” 

He took his glasses off to rub between his eyes, really got his thumbs in there. Jesse’s back could have totally used a massage. He couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him, like even a fucking fist-bump. Badger was out of town visiting his cousin in Dallas. Jesse figured the last time someone put their hands on him was when Mr. White’s fuck-face brother-in-law practically jumped him. His back was still all bruised up. 

Jesse jolted a little when he recognized this like weird impulse shit to hug Mr. White. It was like getting a sudden itch somewhere so intense it almost hurt. He scratched a little at his neck. He was still sweaty. They’d sealed this place in and turned off the air to “smoke” out the fly. 

The guy looked wobbly. 

“Yo, why don’t you take a seat and I’ll smoke this motherfucker?”

Mr. White scoffed. “And what makes you think you can do that on your own? I mean, this coming from the boy who brought a grocery bag full of insect sprays  _ into  _ a meth lab?”

Jesse clenched his teeth together and tried not to get too worked up; de-escalate by counting back from ten in his head. He’d learned that in rehab. But fuck it if Mr. White called him a boy one more time Jesse was gonna need a hit of  _ something _ . 

He pointed like aggressively. “This coming from the guy who  _ locked  _ me out of the lab and gave me no grocery list, suggestions or nothing? The one whose been chasing around a fly like he’s fucking Wile E. Coyote? Who looks like he hasn’t slept and is about to pass out any second?” 

“Don’t exaggerate,”Mr. White said. He reached for his coffee mug and sort of raised it like a toast. “I’m just fine.”

He almost missed the lab table when he set his cup back down, spilling a little more than coffee.

Jesse quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah, totally looks like it.”

Mr. White used one of the Los Pollos napkins to dab it up and waved Jesse off. He sort of leaned against the table, took another sip. “I’m surprised you’ve ever heard of Wile E. Coyote. That was well before your time wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. But shit’s a classic, yo. It’s like...one of the first story lines ever.”

“Don’t know if I’d go that far but it certainly had--”

“No, think about it. It’s cat-and-mouse, the chase, prey-predator. That shit’s older than Shakespeare’s ass for sure.”

Jesse wasn’t sure why, but he was aiming for a smile and it felt kind of good getting even a weak-ass chuckle. It turned into a coughing fit. Though he was even more sternly waved off when he moved towards the guy.

“Wrong pipe,” Mr. White said, fist to his mouth.

Jesse scanned the lab for the fly swatter before remembering where Mr. White had chucked it. He might as well go fetch the thing. They hadn’t seen the son of a bitch for at least five minutes or so.

“Maybe he’s dead, like croaked from how hot it is in here. Seriously, place is like that Nelly music video. Might have to take--”

“ _ Just what do you think you’re doing _ ?” 

The dude’s acidic tone of voice made Jesse feel like he was getting caught trying to add the aluminum again. Made him want a hot dog even with all the talk of pigs lips and assholes ‘cause hot dogs were still bomb. But no, Jesse was just crouched on the floor, picking up the swatter.

“ _ What’s your problem _ ?”

“My problem is you having the idea that you can do this on your own. Not just  _ this  _ particular pile of shit we’ve happened to step into today. But,” Mr. White motioned around himself, “ _ any  _ of this. That you can do any of this without me.”

Now it was Jesse’s turn to repeat himself.

“Yo, we’re fifty-fifty partners. Remember,  _ ass _ hole?”

“You do understand that a fifty-fifty partnership requires two, no? Two halves of one hundred?” He displayed both hands before pressing them together. “Two sides of an Oreo  _ cookie _ ? Is that an illustration you can fathom? You...you..idiotic little j--”

Jesse was on his feet before he could count back to seven. 

_ Shit.  _

He was so fucking mad he almost blacked out: vision and shit was blurry, crashing metal of one of the rolly chairs toppling over on its side, sort of a salty taste, couldn’t breathe, Mr. White...yelping? 

_ Oh man..oh shit...did he just… _

Mr. White had a hand clamped to the side of his neck. “Did you just  _ bite  _ me?”

There was  _ maybe  _ an inch between them. Jesse had him by the collar. A couple random buttons had gone undone. 

Jesse caught himself licking his lips so he wiped at his mouth with the back of his free hand. He was still pissed. Just confused and embarrassed and dizzy too.

“You ever heard the phrase, ‘don’t poke a tiger’?”

Jesse said it right in his stupid fucking face.

Mr. White narrowed his eyes. “ _ You’re  _ not even a garden variety lynx. Let alone a tiger. You are nothing but a house cat, son. A  _ declawed, neutered, limp dick-- _ ”

That mix of “son” and “limp dick” created something like a cherry bomb inside Jesse. 

He jerked his hand back hard enough to scratch Mr. White before pushing him crotch-first against the lab table. And Jesse’s own crotch was right up on the back of the dude’s thigh.

“Limp dick, huh?”

Jesse wasn’t sure if he should feel vindicated, disgusted or horrified that he was already half-hard. The friction of denim on khaki was fucking nice and shit. Jesse’s body was lonely right?  _ Right?  _

He stuck his hands to Mr. White’s back and shoved his top half against the table. Jesse’s fingers were shaking, all of him was. Didn’t stop him from thrusting against the guy. Somewhere in the back of his head he knew this shit was sick. But maybe sometimes you gotta be the hyena making the other hyena’s lick your nuts. Except Jesse was a tiger. Whatever. 

Jesse sort of got lost shoving up against him over and over and over again.

He got a fistful of the back of the dude’s shirt and maybe dug his claws in too hard ‘cause Mr. White sounded like he sucked in a bunch of air through his teeth. 

It was the only noise Mr. White had made in like at least a full-ass minute. Well Jesse had to have been at this for at least five ‘cause he was totally stiff now. His jeans felt almost tight. 

Jesse was just supposed to be mad. Not all fucking horny too. 

Before he really knew what he was doing he leaned over and sort of kissed the back of the guy’s neck and got that same salty taste from when he’d bitten him. And yeah, maybe the like tight feeling in his jeans got him a little excited ‘cause his next thrust was hard enough to spill more coffee. And then Jesse was practically nauseous. 

Jesse stopped the kissing and everything fast enough to accidentally nip his own bottom lip. 

Breathing real hard, he was scared to let the guy up in case they started fighting again. So he stayed where he was.

“Why’d you stop?” Mr. White said.

Dude sounded totally unbothered, like Jesse was in the middle of giving him a haircut or some shit. Maybe there was a shred or so of disappointment. Or Jesse just wanted to hear that. To make this less totally sick of him. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to say.

Jesse sighed. “I took it too far.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“Well, it is difficult speaking with my face shoved into a table. However, that doesn’t change my opinion on this...situation that has...arisen.”

Mr. White pushed the back of his thigh into Jesse’s groin. And Jesse couldn’t help but groan, rubbing into him little. Though he instantly pulled away again, not all the way ‘cause he was still cautious of the possible backlash here.

“This shit’s fucked up. I...I wanted you to chill out earlier so I slipped a couple of sleeping pills in your coffee. So you know, you’re not running on all cylinders with this.”

Mr. White was quiet for a bit then shrugged. “You underestimate my tolerance for barbiturates. Several of my medications have sedative qualities. I’m drowsy but far...from unable to make my own...my own choices. Plus, the pills will make my muscles...let’s say...it will make them more...adaptable for what you’re wanting.” 

“ _ Yo, what _ ?”

Jesse sprang back like the guy had elbowed him in the crotch. Even with him bragging about his tolerance or whatever, he still sounded kind of doped up and like sluggish. But Jesse could have sworn Mr. White had basically given him permission to fuck him. 

Mr. White lazily turned his head back, upper body still flat as a Denny’s pancake against the lab table. “I assume you still carry condoms in your wallet.”

“Yeah,” Jesse said. ‘Cause like what the hell was he gonna say at a time like this? “I think I got two on me.”

He rolled his eyes. “More than sufficient.”

Jesse didn’t know if he was getting dragged for not being able to go a second round but it sort of sounded like that. He smacked the back of the asshole’s bald-ass head anyway. 

Mr. White hissed and patted his scalp like he thought he was bleeding. He wasn’t bleeding; just being a little bitch. 

“Is that doing it for you? Hitting me, that is? Because it’s becoming...beco--”

Jesse kind of quick-fire batted at Mr. White’s head, shoulder, and lower back. He beat the guy to the punch before he could ask anything else: “Just hypothesizing, yo.”

“ _ Hypothesizing.”  _ Mr. White scoffed. “No. What you’re doing is playing with your dead. You’re a--”

“So you’re saying you’re already dead?”

The dude could be bleak and all woe-is-me, but that was some dark shit. 

“Might as well be,” Mr. White said. “And if you care not to  _ interrupt  _ me again, I was saying you’re playing with me like I’m some sort of dead mouse. Toying with me like a pissy, little kitt--”

Jesse snapped his teeth into the back of Mr. White’s neck and fuck if the guy didn’t groan and buck back into him like that shit was involuntary. 

He smiled around the bite and held on to the table, letting the guy just rub back into him. Pulling away, he titled his hips forward and muttered, “Doing something for you too.”  __

It didn’t matter if Mr. White heard him or not ‘cause Jesse didn’t feel bad about this shit anymore and was really grinding hard into the guy, full on dry humping even more so than before. It wasn’t until he felt his boxers get wet that he remembered he was cheating himself. There was that offer on the table. 

He shoved his hand in his back pocket and fished out his wallet. Sure enough his Trojan was still in there behind his expired Blockbuster card. The condom was still good for another month. 

“ _ Hell yeah _ ,” Jesse said.

Tucked in between his Visa and Game Stop membership was one of the little packets of lube Wendy had thrown at him this one time she’d been teasing him about being like gay for Heisenberg or whatever. Chick was probably smarter than she looked. 

Just as he was enjoying the sound of the plastic wrapper tearing between his fingertips, he heard a belt buckle. He looked up in enough time to watch Mr. White drop his pants. And that moment of total victory would have felt better if he didn’t also hear this kind of mechanical-robot-y noise.  _ The fucking cameras. _

“ _ Stop _ ,” Jesse said. 

“And why is--”

“ _ You’re _ the one who told me Fring put up cameras. Let’s go to the break room.”

Mr. White froze for a second. “Why does it matter?”

Jesse jabbed his thumb into the guy’s lower like it was the head of a glock and he was about to mug him at an ATM.

He lowered his voice. “‘Cause this shit is for me.  _ Just _ me. So, get up and walk.  _ Now. _ ” 

Jesse eased up and felt like he was hallucinating watching Mr. White actually listen to him for fucking once. He even waited until he was totally in the break room before he followed Mr. White. And he wasn’t sure if he’d ever had his prick so swollen while it was still in his fucking pants. 

He unzipped himself and stroked his cock when he was just barely past the threshold of the door. Neither of them bothered with the lights in here. Jesse was cool with that. He could just barely make out the outline of Mr. White bent over the arm of the sofa, elbows on the cushion in front of him, his ass bare.

It felt totally awesome jerking off with Mr. White just waiting for him like this. He was tempted to finish himself off, maybe spray his load on the guy’s face, but he changed his mind. 

Jesse ditched his military jacket ‘cause it was still muggy in here, probably way more now. His jeans were bunched up and stuck to his thighs. 

He could feel pre-cum dripping down his shaft as he finally got the condom open. 

Jesse tossed the packet of lube on the couch.

“Get ready.”

Mr. White kind of inspected it and did some grumbling shit, but tore the thing open and was pretty damn awkward reaching behind himself. Jesse rolled the condom on himself in the meantime and chewed on the inside of his cheek ‘cause he was already getting impatient.

Jesse smacked his dumb hand away.

Walt balked. “You told me to--”

“Yo, you’re doing it wrong. You gotta get deeper,” Jesse said. 

He slipped his index and middle finger in up to the knuckles. Picking up a back-and-forth rhythm, he scissored them. He couldn’t help imagining that the scorpion tat on his wrist was judging him pretty hard for this. Doing this to Mr. White that is. Not the ass play. Though it had been a while since he’d done anal, even longer since he’d been on this side of things. With chicks of course. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mr. White said. 

He sounded hella strained just getting that much out of his mouth and Jesse reached around him to find the dude’s dick hard. 

Jesse sighed and smiled when Mr. White like humphed out in disappointment the second Jesse took his hand off the guy’s junk. 

He leaned over to Mr. White’s ear. “Not gonna need to do that.”

Jesse moved his hands, stroking himself a couple more times before he cupped the guy’s ass in the way of a warning and slid in less than half way.

Mr. White coughed a little. “What was that I said...said about not flattering yourself?”

Jesse fucking rammed himself in balls deep, nearly passing out at the slick suction all around him. He grinned when Mr. White gasped. And he didn’t let him catch his breath before he pulled all the way out and slammed back in. It wasn’t like he was trying to think about shit, more like it was so stuffed up in his head it was pouring out of him: Mr. White calling him an idiot junkie, telling him he wasn’t allowed to meet with Fring, saying he couldn’t do anything without him.

Some sort of like animalistic almost growl shit just like came out of Jesse on its fucking own.

He grabbed onto Mr. White’s hips and thrust as hard as he could. Pumping in and out, varying the tilt of his pelvis. His chest was flush against the guy’s back and Mr. White’s skin felt hot even through Jesse’s t-shirt. He somehow both cared and didn’t care if he was hurting him.

Didn’t seem like he was with Mr. White huffing and groaning beneath Jesse.

Breathing heavy, Jesse said, “You fucking suck. You know that, right?”

After a second or two, Mr. White gave a kind of hesitant nod. He mumbled something Jesse couldn’t make out.

“What?” Jesse said.

When he didn’t raise his wheezy-ass voice at all, Jesse pinched the back of his neck and jostled him a little. The scared tension running through Mr. White’s body felt great around Jesse’s prick.

“ _ Bite me _ ,” Mr. White said.

It wasn’t exactly an order but it still sort of seemed too close to one for Jesse. And no way was he having any of that shit. 

He flicked the guy’s ear. 

“Don’t wanna,” he said. 

And the thought crossed his mind that maybe all-out, balls-to-the-wall, rough was how Mr. White wanted this. That made Jesse pissed for some reason. 

So he slowed his thrusts. He rocked into him fucking straight-up leisurely. Mr. White tried to buck up into him but Jesse had the leverage here to hold the guy completely still against the arm of the sofa. 

His lips found their way back to the side of the guy’s face. 

“This your first time,  _ Mr. White _ ?” 

When Jesse didn’t get a response, he slowed down even more. 

It somehow made things feel even slicker, everything pulsing, almost like his whole body was throbbing.

And from where Jesse was hanging his head, he could see Mr. White had a fist around his cock. He wasn’t jacking himself that fast though. It was like he was falling asleep.

Mr. White breathed out what sure as hell sounded like a whine. “ _ Jesse,” _ Mr. White said. 

He  _ whined _ . 

“ _ Oh shit _ .”

Before Jesse really knew what he was doing again, he scraped his teeth down the slope of Mr. White’s ear. He only needed to grind forward a little before he came. And that shit felt so intense it was like something deep down in his chest was going to fall out in a heavy, wet lump like a wad of gum in his mouth. 

Jesse rocked into the aftershock shit until he was spent. 

He tossed the condom in the trash by the little kitchen area and chucked Mr. White the roll of paper towels. 

“Thanks,” Mr. White said.

He for sure sounded all doped up now as he wiped off his hands and crotch. Jesse kind of hummed with an eyebrow up ‘cause it looked like Mr. White wasn’t too out of it to get off at least. It was sort of an awesome ego boost. 

He zipped himself up while Mr. White pulled his clothes back on, though he was kind of wobbly. 

Jesse steadied the guy with a hand on his elbow. “Hey, just sit down for a sec.”

His voice was gentler than the guy deserved, but it did the trick and Mr. White sat down while Jesse went to look for cups in the cupboard to get him some water. 

“Thank you, Jesse,” he said.

Jesse wasn’t exactly sure or what. He was too concentrated opening cabinet doors and only then did he find a blue plastic Madrigal 2006 International Summer Summit cup that looked pretty dusty. He rinsed it out and wondered if Mr. White was thanking him for the orgasm. 

Jesse snickered and rinsed the cup before filling it with water. When he turned, he found Mr. White passed the hell out, head rolled back against the wall.

He set the water down on the coffee table. After a few seconds of like mental debate, he draped his military jacket over the guy.

Jesse sighed. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

Walking back into the lab, Jesse went to add the damn aluminum when he noticed there was still coffee spilled on the lab table. Before he could clean up the last little drips, he spotted that stupid fucking fly legs-up in a tiny puddle of sleeping-pill-laced coffee. 

Jesse smiled softly. Turned out he did a lot by himself today. Too bad shit still wasn’t done. 

With Mr. White about as dead to the world as the fly, Jesse quickly finished off the batch, no problem. 

He patted his back pocket to check his smokes were still there and got his keys from his locker. Every step he took during the last half of the cook and him cleaning up and shit had that camera following him. 

Climbing to the top of the stairs, he stuck a cigarette between his lips, smirked and flipped it off. 


End file.
